


Never Break Your Patterns

by SqueakyClam



Series: Weeping Cliffsides [1]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Baby's first fic!!, Existential Crisis, Gen, I just call the Knight the Vessel in this, No beta we die like mne, a lot of headcanons, headcanons, i guess?, taking some artistic liberty here on vessels, the narrator and the knight have an argument
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:07:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24992818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SqueakyClam/pseuds/SqueakyClam
Summary: A vessel finds their way to the Howling Cliffs.Whenever they find someplace new, they take it upon themselves to scour the area, in hopes of it aiding their current mission.Yet they don't do that this time.(AKA: The Knight has emotions but they're not allowed to because plot, featuring angry narrators)
Series: Weeping Cliffsides [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1810942
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	Never Break Your Patterns

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY SO!! This is my first ever time writing something that isn't my own characters. This is my first time writing fanfiction. It's midnight (almost 1am) and I'm a nervous wreck about posting this, please be gentle with me ya'll shgkjhkhj-  
> Also, this was originally going to be a "Mato is the Knight's dad(tm)" fic, because that sorta stuff hits me close to home and I love it, but I got very sidetracked. Maybe I'll end up making that fic some other time, I have some ideas for it so!!  
> Instead, here's the Knight/Ghost/the vessel (as called here) fighting against something that is forcing them along a path they can't see.

From this viewpoint, all they could see were bodies.

It’s a depressing sight, to be sure. Standing at the peak of the cliff, facing away from the location of Hallownest, the vessel stared outward and scanned over the endless horizon. They were at the highest point of the Howling Cliffs, having found this place on accident while retracing their steps. Finding a secret upward entrance through King’s Pass, they used their newly acquired Mantis Claw to scale their way upward and continued that assent until they reached this point.

The bugs they encountered were mindless, yet still oozed the cursed orange upon their slaughtering. To anyone else, it would be disheartening to learn that the infection had spread this far. Everyone else had some semblance of emotion, however. The vessel barely batted an eye as they struck down each insect, with no disregard for the remnants. They simply kept moving forward.

Now that they stood here, their gaze fell upon a vast expanse of land. Stretching far beyond the Pale King’s boundaries, far beyond Hallownest, and far from the inhabitants behind them.  
The base of the cliffs were littered with emptied husks. Their bodies ancient and covered in dust and sand. Anyone else would ponder what led them to their demises: Had they fared poorly against the insects outside of Hallownest? Did they all succumb to infection and kill each other through the haze? Was this a long-forgotten warzone?  
The vessel did not know, and furthermore, they did not care.

Finally, said vessel began to descend. They slowly hopped down the cliffside with carefully calculated landings, sure to slash anything that charged for them. Though this place seemed far calmer in that regard.  
While Hallownest was packed with the unfortunately reanimated civilians that once thrived inside its walls, all to be found outside of it were crawlids and vengeflies. This made it far easier to traverse the landscape, as each ‘threat’ only required a quick swipe of the nail to be rid of.

On their way down, the vessel found themselves disinterested with what could be inside every crevice of the Howling Cliffs. At least for now.  
They noticed a memorial on their journey – one with an odd warrior spirit lingering and spouting some nonsense about “Gorb” and “Ascension” – but figured they could come back to it. They also heard the unmistakable hum of the infamous Cornifer... yet stalled in his visit as well.

This was uncharacteristic of them. In the sense that the vessel often fell into patterns.  
Vessels, made to be free of will, usually needed someone – or something – to obey. When lacking such an entity, vessels must figure out what to do for themselves. This in of itself should cause a paradox.  
With supposedly no mind to think, one could not assume that a vessel would be able to choose for themselves what to do in life. They had no survival instinct, for one. With no need to eat, sleep, or drink, they didn’t find themselves searching for a place to keep them living. With no concept of loneliness, they did not seek out companions.  
Vessels were made with a sole purpose. All but one was deemed worthy of that purpose. The rest were left to rot. No purpose to fulfill, no one to give them meaning, they fell into the void’s embrace – and none resurfaced.

All but one.  
As far as they were aware of, anyway.

So what is to be done with a vessel with no one to command it?  
They must decide for themselves.  
As earlier stated, this should cause a paradox of some kind. Instead, this vessel found a way to slip into a way of living. Almost.

They were drawn to Hallownest when they sensed a purpose there. Feeling was an odd thing. A completely foreign experience.  
Years previous, the vessel had simply crawled out of the abyss and wandered far away. They weren’t sure why. It wasn’t curiosity that called them, surely. They just… left. And walked. In a perfectly straight line.  
It continued this way until they turned around. Some otherworldly force had suddenly beckoned them to turn around and go back. Again, they had no idea why, but it felt like a command. Commands were the one thing vessels understood by nature. And so, without a second of hesitation, the vessel turned on their heel and made a return.  
The vessel didn’t dwell on the implications, however. Mainly since they weren’t mentally capable of doing so.  
Upon arriving, they just… kept walking. Occasionally hopping onto platforms or attacking insects as if it was second nature. They didn’t know why.  
They entered the realm of Hallownest without the faintest idea of why they were here, and they had no reason or way to ask. It simply felt like they were walking toward a purpose… which is all they existed for.  
So it felt right.  
…”Felt.”  
Hm.

It didn’t take long from that point to recognize a pattern.  
They’d find a new place, and they would explore it. They’d find a new insect, and carefully assess whether it was friend or foe. They started to recognize faces – or sounds – and would gravitate toward these familiarities.  
For example: Cornifer’s signature hum. One that would shut down any other objective the vessel had, as they gained new meaning: Locate Cornifer.  
Which soon turned to listen to Cornifer.  
Then buy a map from Cornifer.  
Then leave, resume previous set of actions.

Incredibly robotic with their one-track mind, but it got them this far.  
…So why did they stray from it?

They soon found themselves at the bottom of the cliffs. Their nubby feet made contact with the sandy ground, and the winds sent particles into their cloak and eyes. Not that this bothered them.  
Why aren’t they going back to Cornifer?  
Oddly enough, they started to wonder that themselves.  
Wait a second. They wondered?

They froze in their place, completely oblivious to a crawlid that blankly watched them from a platform above.  
Something wasn’t right. They were straying from their objectives.  
Replace the vessel. Explore the Howling Cliffs. Fight the warrior spirit.

Locate Cornifer.

Listen to Cornifer.

Buy a map from Cornifer.

Instead, they stood completely still, facing a wasteland littered with nothing but corpses. Why had they come here? Why weren’t they doing as usual? Why had they broken their pattern?

Nothing called them this way. Nothing beckoned them. Nothing was out there.

 _I am curious._  
Huh?

They blinked. No, that didn’t seem right. That didn’t _feel_ ri-  
“Feel?”  
Blink.  
Since when did anything “feel?” What’s going on?

Their feet began to move. One in front of the other. They plodded along the dusty grounds, which were devoid of any signs of life. They were well aware of that, as they brushed against the husks of long-dead insects.  
Why are they still moving? They saw nothing in front of them. The winds were too strong, the sand clouds were too thick, and all they could hear was those gusts.  
Nothing called to them. They were not being beckoned. No one commanded them to go this way.

 _I am curious.  
_But that doesn’t make any sense.

 _I am exploring.  
_Rationalization? The vessel can reason, of course, but this is not related to their mission. This is farther from Hallownest. Their mission is in that kingdom. They are to defeat the Dreamers and replace the Hollow Knight. They are to bring a specified amount of essence to the Seer, which requires battles against the warrior spirits.  
They are to locate Cornifer.  
They are to do as they are instructed.

 _I want -  
_No. There is no “want.” They do not “want.” They do not “desire.” They have no “will.”

 _I want to leave.  
_What?  
_I don’t want to do this.  
_They do not “want” in general.  
_It won’t work.  
_They don’t know this. That is speculation. That is… hopelessness, something a vessel should not feel. A vessel should not feel to begin with.

They soon found themselves stopped. The winds physically prohibited them from moving any farther, no matter how much effort they put into every step. They tried – desperately? – to push through. Their arms blocking their face, trying to carve their way out of the hellscape behind them by slicing through the very will of nature.  
One misstep, and the gusts swept them off their feet, sending them tumbling all the way back. They flailed uselessly in the air until their body crashed to the ground one last time, skidding across the sand.

Upon their failure, they should stand up, and forfeit this path. It does not aid in their venture. It is beyond what matters to them. It is not within the scope of their given task.

The vessel lay face first into the sand for an indeterminable amount of time. They eventually managed to push themselves to their feet, brushing some sand off of themselves and checking that their nail remained fastened to their back.  
Blink.  
They turned their attention to the useless, empty world beyond the wind.

And then they turned around, and they walked back.

Locate Cornifer.


End file.
